In Which I Quell My Urges

We bend over a lot at the bookstore, putting away books and leaning towards the computer keyboard to do data entry. Every once in a while I get the urge to swat one of my coworkers on the backside. I don't do this, of course. That would be really perverted and uncalled for. But the urge is strong; where on earth does it come from? Is it a biological impulse: spot potential competition in a vulnerable position and push them over to eliminate the threat? Is it a latent sexual impulse (in which case, ew); is it a sign that I'm feeling unfulfilled and so desirous to create mischief; am I channeling a previous life in which I was an English headmistress? There is something innately satisfying about the thwack of book on bum. I wonder if I could just do it once, would the desire dissipate; or would I crave more? Escalating in a mad ass smacking rampage that not only destroys company morale, but lands me in the clinker, and thus with even worse career prospects than my overabundance of liberal arts degrees already affords me?